Unspoken Words
by theblueeyedfirebender
Summary: Seven years after Sozin's Comet, Zuko and Katara discuss that fateful night. Zutara.


"You know, it's not exactly becoming of a noblewoman such as yourself to be found drinking alone on a balcony while everyone else is enjoying the party."

Katara glances over the rim of her wine glass to see Zuko approaching her in a few long strides, the hard angles of his Firelord regalia deceitfully intimidating in the evening light. A glass balcony door shuts softly behind him, and it muffles the sound of orchestral music and polite laughter that emanates from the great hall at their backs. She rolls her eyes at him, and Zuko clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. "Come now, Master Katara, you wouldn't want to offend your host."

"Somehow, I think he'll get over it. No one's going to notice I'm gone anyway."

He gives a mirthless chuckle. "I doubt that. There's quite a number of notable young bachelors in there, hoping to catch the eye of the Four Nation's most eligible bachelorette."

She huffs, breath steaming the interior of her near-empty goblet. "Word travels fast."

Zuko sighs, bumping elbows with her as he moves to stand at her side, and taking a sip from his own glass of fire whiskey. The cut crystal winks in the moonlight. "You have no idea."

With a sidelong glance, Katara studies him, her old friend. He's much taller now, certainly taller than his father, she thinks with some satisfaction. His figure has broadened with adulthood and his jaw is more pronounced. He's clean shaven, like always, and she absently wonders if he makes a point of it in an effort to set himself apart from the Firelords of the past.

He catches her gaze, and for a moment, her ocean eyes flit downward, to his abdomen, and the echo of dry lighting crackles in their memories. Subconsciously, his hand drifts to rest over the spot where ornate robes conceal a starburst scar.

"Can I see it?" the words are out of Katara's mouth before she has time to think them over, and silently she curses the strength of Fire Nation wine. The young Firelord's eyes widen, and he breaks into a lopsided smile.

"Here? Now?"

Katara's face blooms into a flush, and she is suddenly intensely aware of the roomful of the world's most influential leaders dancing and laughing just beyond the windowed doors. Her brother and father are among them, she reminds herself. "Spirits, no Zuko, I just…" she swallows dryly.

"Well, that's a relief." Zuko replies over the muffled musical notes that carry into the night air. He turns to rest his empty glass on the wide stone railing and looks over the city. "At the moment I'm having enough trouble explaining to my council why I've chosen to send finances to the Earth Kingdom colonies. I can't imagine justifying myself for disrobing on a palace balcony in front of a well-noted Water Tribe ambassador such as yourself."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." she quips defensively, arching an eyebrow at him. "I just want to see how you've healed."

"It's been seven years Katara. It's healed."

She opens her mouth to respond. The words catch in her throat. Seven years. The reality of it surges in her chest like the sea, along with all the questions, the wonderings she's kept bottled inside for so long. Ever since the tea shop, Ba Sing Se, where she'd meant to corner him on that picturesque afternoon and demand answers, an explanation for his actions on that night when the sky burned red and the world was on fire. She needed to know, to settle the desperate aching in her chest that warned her of something far greater beneath the surface, like the icebergs of her homeland. But then there had been Aang, on a different balcony, a lifetime ago, and suddenly Katara was afraid to know what Zuko might tell her.

Not anymore.

"You could have died, you know."

"I know." he says simply, and it does nothing to abate the wave that rushes from her.

"Zuko, you don't understand. If you hadn't redirected, you would have been gone. The Fire Nation...who would have taken the throne?"

"My uncle."

"But he said so himself, history would see it as-"

"History would have gotten over it."

"I don't see how! I don't understand how you could be so reckless, to just throw your life, your nation's future, away in a second for-for-"

"A peasant?" he's smirking again, eyes golden. "I knew what I was doing."

Katara sets her wine beside his empty whiskey glass and crosses her arms, stubborn. "You know, I don't think you did. The world had everything to lose that day. If you had thought it though, you would never have put yourself at risk."

"And you would be dead." he says it so quietly she barely hears the words. "Uncle used to say I never thought things through. But believe me, Katara, when Azula turned the lightning on you, I knew exactly what needed to be done. And I'd do it again."

Her mouth is dry. She reaches for her glass and barely tastes the last of the sweet, fruity liquid. "It was stupid."

"Maybe. But at least you're here to tell me so."

When did he get so close to her? She can smell his whiskey and feel his heat against the coolness of the night. His eyes are molten, burning through her like they want to know everything inside her mind. He is intense, determined, unshakable, and she is acutely aware of how tightly the strings of destiny are bound. Carefully, she raises a hand to touch the base of the scar that mars the left side of his face. He exhales, leaning into her touch like he did so long ago, a world in away, in that cave of crystal. Beneath the weight of his regal armor, Zuko's figure relaxes.

"Well," she swallows, dropping his gaze and placing a tentative palm against his stomach, "I suppose I should be thanking you."

Warm hands cradle her jaw, and just before his lips press against hers, he retorts.

"That's debatable."


End file.
